


Simple

by acatfeet, SharpestRose



Category: Togainu no Chi
Genre: Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 03:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19433209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatfeet/pseuds/acatfeet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestRose/pseuds/SharpestRose
Summary: Akira and Rin, after.





	Simple

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by acatfeet, words by SharpestRose

“It’s your day off, go back to sleep,” Rin ordered him quietly, but Akira let himself drift up into full wakefulness anyway. The room was still dark and cool around their bed, the muted hum of the city at low ebb coming through the slice of space between the glass sliding door out to the balcony and its frame. The battered screen door was patched and fraying, but it kept insects out well enough.

Rin levered himself up from the bed on his crutch, going to turn on the hot water for coffee. Akira joined him over by the small kitchenette counter, reaching for the jar of instant granules and for the sugar. He laughed gently as Rin gave a wide yawn and snuggled his face into the crook of Akira’s shoulder with a groan.

“Humans weren’t designed to be awake at this hour of the morning,” Rin complained against Akira’s neck.

“You’re the one who wanted to get up early,” Akira reminded him. “I’ve got no sympathy for you.” He continued to make the coffee around Rin, used to the clinginess by now.

* * *

They’d managed to procure two milk crates from a local store to use as balcony furniture. Rin eased himself down carefully onto one of them and Akira, carrying their mugs of coffee, sat down beside him. At this early hour the city gave off less ambient light, making the stars more visible, and a meteor shower was supposed to start soon. There was a long narrow strip of visible sky above the building opposite their apartment, enough to see a scatter of stars and the morning light.

Moments like this were one of Akira and Rin’s favourite things, watching the night sky while Rin wrapped his arm around Akira and they sat close together. It was a peace and quiet neither of them ever thought they’d have, much less share with another person.

“When I was first learning to walk with the prosthetic, I felt like shit most of the time,” Rin said quietly, sipping his coffee. He drank it stronger than Akira preferred, though both of them liked to add a lot of sugar. “I had to be on a bunch of steroids after the surgery, and I had no appetite, and it sucked. I’d force myself to get across the hospital ward to a chair by the window. Those chairs are for visitors, but it’s not like anyone had many of those. Tomoyuki was about my only regular, and he’s a pain in the ass. Mostly that chair got used by me, when I’d look out at the stars. They helped me remember that my problems weren’t the biggest in the world, just the closest, you know? Like how the sun and the moon aren’t all that big, compared to the stars. They just seem larger because they’re nearer.”

Akira gave a small hum of agreement, leaning closer into Rin’s side. A minute later a small thump made him look over to the other end of the small outdoor space. It was a skinny, scruffy neighbourhood cat that had deigned to visit them a few times in the past. It gave the two of them a wary-eyed look, hissing preemptively against either of them even thinking of trying to pet it. It settled down and started cleaning itself beside where they sat.

* * *

The bedding had lost their body heat by the time they climbed back in after sunrise, the sheets cool against their skin. Akira yawned as he curled against Rin’s back, breathing in the warm human smell of the nape of his neck.

“It’s my day off,” Akira mumbled, remembering. Rin chuckled quietly.

“Yeah, it is. We can sleep late.”

Rin’s own work was freelance photography, mostly stock shots of the city’s rapid development, so that foreign journalists could illustrate their stories without having to come to the area themselves. Motomi had set him up with the job, so that Rin had something that he could shape to fit Akira’s schedule, and pause whenever pain made working difficult.

After their experiences in Toshima, Rin avoided using drugs to control his pain as much as reasonably possible, and Akira didn’t feel comfortable trying to persuade him to do otherwise. Motomi often scolded them for suffering more than was necessary, but Motomi had never seen the worst of it — even as an information broker, he’d never seen what drugs could do in the same way that Akira and Rin had. Even legal, safe painkillers felt a little too much like tempting fate.

* * *

They slept until late morning. This time, Akira let Rin get up and make them tea, enjoying an extra few minutes of stolen sleep. When Rin brought him his mug and sat on the bed, Akira saw that he’d pinned his hair back from his face with the cat-shaped clip that Akira had bought for him on a whim a few weeks earlier. It looked silly and sweet on Rin, and made Akira smile.

“I was photographing down at the garage again yesterday. They’re doing up an old motorbike that they salvaged. I was thinking…” Rin paused to sip his tea. “Maybe we could get it.”

“Would you be able to ride something like that with your prosthetic?”

“Yeah, the mechanics said it’s not hard to modify bikes for that. I like the idea of being able to move fast enough feel the wind in my hair again, you know?”

Akira thought about all the times Rin had dragged him onto rollercoasters and other terrifying rides, and couldn’t help but smile again. “You couldn’t feel the wind in your hair if you were wearing a helmet, like you’re supposed to when riding a bike.”

“Pfft. You can wear the helmet. I’ll be fine.”

Akira rolled his eyes.

At first, Rin’s photographs had sold because they were some of the only images being recorded of rebuild efforts, of veterans trying to find some new semblance of normalcy. After that first rush of interest in his work, Rin had struggled for a little while, until his technical skills at framing and exposure reached a more professional standard.

His work now was beautiful, but Akira had a private fondness for the raw, amateurish energy of the earlier photos as well. Looking through them felt like watching a soul grow, the details slowly gaining focus and colour as they learned how to exist properly. It felt like seeing the story of Akira and Rin themselves, played out in clumsy snapshots, growing into clarity.

* * *

In the early afternoon they went out to pick up groceries. Rin wore his prosthetic, his gait even and natural, but Akira stayed close at his side anyway in case he needed someone to lean on.

Their cooking skills were extremely basic, to put it kindly, but Akira liked to make an attempt when he had the time. Recipes offered nuances of texture and flavour that Solids couldn’t. He grabbed their usual supplies: noodles, eggs, tomatoes, frozen dumplings, rice.

“Motomi’s going to complain if it’s not spicy and too plain,” Akira noted as he added a packet of kombu to their basket.

“Let him complain,” Rin replied cheerfully. “He’s getting a free dinner.” Then he snapped his fingers. “I’ve remembered an errand I need to do. You grab the meat, and I’ll be back in a minute.”

Akira continued shopping, pausing in the pet food section to consider for a moment before adding a tin of cat food to their shopping. The local stray would never be anyone’s pet, that much was clear, but that didn’t mean Akira couldn’t give it a nice meal every once in a while.

Rin returned as Akira was paying for everything, a plain paper bag in his hands. Akira gave him a quizzical look, but Rin just smiled and offered no answer.

* * *

Their route home took them past the kendo dojo that some of the local former Bl@ster participants had recently established. Akira and Rin liked to stop by occasionally to watch the students as they sparred and practiced. They all looked happier and more at ease than they ever had as Bl@ster players. They were building something together, a community with a common goal, rather than just surviving from sensation to sensation.

They soaked in the slightly hazy sunshine hanging over the neighbourhood as they headed home to put away the groceries. As Akira had expected him to, Rin teased him about the tin of cat food.

“You’re too sweet. Tender-hearted.”

“Tell that to everyone I defeated at Bl@ster.”

“Nope.” Rin shook his head, grinning. “You can’t fool me.”

Akira smiled back for a moment, then frowned as he tried to find the right words for what he wanted to say. “I’d like to donate the katana to the kendo club. They can put it on display.”

Its current home was the back of their linen cupboard, where neither of them had to look at it. But Akira was always conscious of its presence, and he was certain that Rin was as well, like a knot of scar tissue that always pulled and ached, an old wound long closed but never truly settled.

Rin turned, putting more of their groceries away. “It’s not my place to say. It’s yours to do with what you like,” he said, voice bright and breezy. Akira wasn’t fooled.

“I’d still like to know what you think.”

Rin’s shoulders relaxed a little and he faced Akira again, false smile falling away. He looked tired, but not unhappy. “It sounds like a good choice.”

* * *

The sunlight was heavier, golden, by the time they reached the dojo again with the katana. As Akira handed it over to the head kendoka, explaining that it was a donation, he paused for a moment.

“When you display it… please include a plaque. In memory of Kazui and Keisuke.”

“And Shiki,” Rin added quickly, his voice quiet. The head of the club accepted the triple-barrelled dedication without a word, simply nodding. There were so many people lost to the wars; everyone carried ghosts with them.

Perhaps it was just Akira’s imagination, but Rin’s mood seemed lighter as they headed home. He knew his own heart felt a little lighter, like they’d finally set the last piece of a puzzle into place, finally allowing a picture to be whole.

* * *

Motomi looked like he needed a haircut and a shave, as usual. His clothing had the rumpled, lived-in look they always got when he’d been travelling for a long time. He was more tanned than he had been the last time Akira had seen him. His current lifestyle seemed to agree with him, health and energy obvious in his appearance, despite the near-unbroken chain of cigarettes he smoked through the evening.

Akira made omurice for dinner, the one dish he’d managed to make palatable enough to offer guests. As he carried it over to the table, he heard Rin mutter “Don’t be mean about it, old man,” in a low, sharp voice, and had to keep himself from laughing as he set the plates down. Motomi’s eyes crinkled with held-in laughter of his own as he offered thanks for the food and took a bite.

“It’s good, Akira. Sometimes simple food makes for a nice change,” he said. “Thank you.”

Placated, Rin started eating as well, and Akira joined them.

Akira never minded when Motomi teased him about things like cooking. There was something warm and comforting in being known well enough to be mocked, a sensation a little like the soft cotton of the bright t-shirts Motomi sometimes brought them from his travels, ducks from Disneyland or koalas from Australia. Rin always complained about how childish and ugly those presents were, but Akira knew that Rin wore the one from the Russian Space Museum almost every night to sleep in.

This time, instead of clothing, Motomi provided dessert, presenting them with a white bakery box containing individual servings of creme brûlée.

“I know that’s one of your favourites,” he told Rin, who grinned.

“The sugar crust is like the candied apples we get at the amusement park,” Akira noted.

“You two are regulars there, huh?”

Akira nodded. “Rin likes the rollercoasters, and the arcade’s good.”

Motomi’s smile was softer this time. “I’m glad you’re finally getting a chance to do some of the kid stuff that everyone missed out on.”

“Who’re you calling a kid? I’m the one with a walking stick here. I should be calling _you_ ‘kid,’” Rin sniped.

“How’s it going? The leg?”

“It hasn’t grown back, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Oi, be more polite to your guest,” Motomi scolded good-naturedly.

They chatted for a while longer, mostly about Motomi’s investigative journalism work. Corruption networks and cartels were just as active in peacetime as in war, they just went about it differently. Akira never tired of hearing about the work to bring the syndicates down, enjoying the vicarious thrill of Motomi’s stories.

After they’d said goodnight and Motomi went back to his hotel, Akira and Rin cleaned up the remains of the meal.

“Throwing away your life in battle is one thing,” Rin grumbled as he disposed of the contents of Motomi’s ashtray. “But throwing it away when there’s happiness and peace is another. He should quit the habit.”

Akira couldn’t help but smile at the fierceness still simmering inside Rin. It was a constant in life, even when everything else was different.

* * *

Because they’d slept away the morning, Akira didn’t feel at all ready to wind down yet. He emptied the can of cat food onto a plate and went out onto the balcony, setting the offering on the floor before settling down to wait. Only a few minutes went past before the bedraggled, slinky form of the cat joined him, offering its usual hiss of warning and greeting in one before giving the food a cautious sniff.

“Yeah, it’s for you,” Akira assured it, sitting patiently. The cat edged closer and began to eat. Akira smiled. It polished off every speck of the food in record time, then fastidiously cleaned its patchy fur with an air of studied nonchalance. Akira watched it until it had slipped off into the dark once again, then took the plate back inside and washed it clean.

Rin emerged from the bathroom with his crutch, his prosthetic off for the night. Akira’s breath caught at the sight of him. Rather than the usual Space Museum shirt, Rin wore a delicate white bra and panties set, a keyhole cutout in the shape of a cat’s head exposing the flat expanse of his chest. A small ruffle ran along the lower edge of the bra and Akira wanted to reach out and touch it, run his fingers along the place where the frill brushed against Rin’s ribcage.

“This is what I went to get earlier, when you were buying the groceries,” Rin explained in a soft, shy voice.

Akira swallowed. “It doesn’t seem like your sort of thing at all,” he managed to say.

“It’s not, really. But it’s just the kind of thing you like, so I wanted to wear it for you.” Rin reached up to adjust the collar at his throat, a wide ribbon in the same striking vein-blue as his eyes. It had a tiny gold bell attached, making high, clear little chimes with each small movement.

Thinner ribbons, these ones white, held the petite triangle of fabric at Rin’s crotch in place, tied into bows on either side. The panties were tight over Rin’s cock, and the sight made Akira’s mouth water.

Rin made his way over to the side of the bed and sat down, leaning his crutch against the wall in its usual place. He beckoned to Akira to join him.

“I know that you like sweet, simple things — like coffee with sugar, and feeding stray cats, and omurice for dinner. When I tell you crazy things, like that I want to buy a bike, you don’t tell me that it’s crazy. You just think about the practicalities.” Rin gave him a warm, soft smile. “You always take me exactly as I am, no matter what. It makes me happy to do the same for you.”

Akira paused to pull his own shirt off, then drew Rin closer and into a deep kiss that tasted faintly of the dessert from earlier. Akira loved kissing Rin, loved the way he could feel the tension drain from Rin’s posture as Rin gave in, trusting Akira to take the lead and look after him.

Akira brought his hand up to stroke across Rin’s chest, smoothing the silky fabric down, feeling his nipple pebble and harden beneath the thin cloth. Rin shuddered at the touch, pushing harder into the kiss.

Piece by piece, Akira peeled away the silly, pretty little costume, untying the bows at the sides of the panties, slipping the straps of the bra off Rin’s shoulders, stroking warm bare skin where the ruffled trim brushed against it. Just like Akira himself, Rin’s body was still thin and wiry, but having enough to eat and a comfortable place to sleep had begun to soften the hard edge that hunger and desperation had once given them.

As much as Akira loved the silly sweetness of the lingerie, revealing the toughness and strength of Rin’s body beneath it was even better. They each had their share of scars, though there was nothing left to mark the deep injury that Akira had left on Rin’s thigh when they’d fought in Toshima — that stretch of skin had been lost, along with the leg below it, to Rin’s final clash with Shiki.

Akira broke away from the delicious taste of Rin’s skin for long enough to shed the rest of his own clothes, to turn off the light, and grab the lube from its place in the nightstand, tossing it down onto the bed before rejoining Rin.

Rin’s eyes were huge and dark, only a thin rim of blue at their edge. His mouth was plush and flushed from kissing, his skin painted a ghostly blue by the light of the electric signs and night shadows coming in from outside. The bell ribbon around his throat was the only clothing either of them still wore.

Despite being taller than Akira now, Rin’s missing leg meant that he was still light enough that Akira could lift him easily during sex. They usually ended up face to face, with Rin in Akira’s lap, riding him — not out of any kind of sentimentality for that first desperate, desperately sad time they’d been together, but… well, it was possible that Akira was more sentimental than he wanted to admit to himself, because the reason that he liked their usual position was because it allowed them to kiss.

Maybe it was all right if he was sentimental, though, since Rin wanted him exactly as he was, as bare and honest and whole as Akira could stand to be.

* * *

The sound of Rin’s moans made Akira’s cock throb, the sharp sweet crack of each cry of pleasure counterpointed by the slick noises of the lube as Akira stretched Rin carefully, planting long kisses on Rin’s slack mouth over and over, chasing the sharp sugar traces in the taste of it.

“Now, now, that’s enough. Do it now,” Rin demanded, reaching to grasp Akira’s wrist. “I need you, please.”

Akira nodded, moving his hand away and staying still as Rin shifted into position, guiding himself back to sink down slowly onto Akira’s cock. The hot clench of him was dizzying, and Akira let out a low moan. Rin remained still for a long moment, his breath coming in high gasps and broken little sounds, his eyes screwed shut as he lost himself in the wave of sensation.

Perspiration-damp locks of hair framed Rin’s face, the cherubic blond shade giving an impression of angelic sweetness that was shattered a heartbeat later as he opened his eyes, giving Akira a wicked, feral grin as he undulated his hips, fucking himself down with predatory hunger. Akira’s fingers gripped at Rin’s hips hard enough to bruise and he bit his own lip to stinging, but two could play at that game. He thrust up, matching Rin’s voracity with his own, friction and sweat creating a lewd percussion with every movement of skin against skin.

Akira moved one hand up to tangle in Rin’s hair, pulling him close for more kisses, fucking Rin’s mouth with his tongue in time with their thrusts. As they broke apart Rin bit back a moan, pressing his mouth shut as he threw his head back, clearly overwhelmed.

“Don’t hold back,” Akira urged, pressing his face against the whipcord-tense muscle of Rin’s shoulder. “I want to hear you.” 

“More, more. You feel so good,” Rin babbled, nails scrabbling against Akira’s back.

Akira laughed, the sound surprising him as it broke free into the air between them, and complied. He grasped Rin’s cock where it bobbled between them, stroking it eagerly. “Are you close?”

Rin made a noise of assent between clenched teeth, nodding his head. Akira grinned, lifting his hand away from Rin’s cock and pausing his thrusts. Rin wailed.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear what you said. I told you I wanted to hear you,” Akira reminded him.

Rin’s eyes flashed with anger, the threat somewhat spoiled by the fact they rolled back in his head a moment later, thanks to a pointed snap of Akira’s hips.

“I was close until you stopped!” Rin said. Akira bit down on Rin’s collarbone and began to work his cock again, letting Rin fuck himself down onto Akira at the same time.

Akira could feel his own climax building, his whole body tensing with the same thrumming, vital energy he’d feel just before winning a Bl@ster match, a sense of imminent release. He sped his hand up, their bodies rocking together.

“That’s it. Come for me now,” he ordered, right as he felt himself tipping over the edge. Rin shuddered in his arms, thighs shaking as his body obeyed the command, come coating Akira’s hand as his own orgasm coursed through him, shattering and perfect, the two of them together even in this.

Rin’s breaths were harsh and wet, a gasp or a sob trying to escape. They remained as they were for a long moment, Akira rubbing soothing, meaningless patterns against Rin’s back. Then he eased their bodies apart, letting Rin rest as Akira went to grab a washcloth to clean the worst off both of them.

They could shower and fix the bed later, but for now Akira wanted nothing but this, a quiet and perfect time where nothing in the world mattered but the two of them, here together in the little life they’d built themselves, nothing hidden and everything accepted.

“Today was good,” Rin said, voice already blurry with sleep, his hand entwined with Akira’s as they lay face to face. “I hope tomorrow is, as well.”

“It will be,” Akira replied. The words felt like a vow.


End file.
